


Baise-moi

by varevare (varebanos)



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: M/M, tourism is hard, visiting Paris
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-06-09
Packaged: 2018-01-17 15:20:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1392535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/varebanos/pseuds/varevare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim, Kon and Bart are on a trip, and European cities are easy to get lost in. Fortunately, French boys are helpful. Kind of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. When in France

It hadn’t been easy to get there. It had taken a subway and two buses, but they had gotten there.

 

Wherever _there_ was.

 

“Admit it, guys, we are lost.”

 

Both Tim and Kon sent furibund looks at Bart, who smiled back at them, not worried at all about being stuck somewhere in Paris. In fact, Tim wasn’t even completely sure that they were still in Paris. They were still in France, for sure, but in the dark and without a map -thanks to a certain _someone_ who had mixed it with a flyer and thrown it away. Tim switched his glare from Bart to Kon.

 

“Hey, it’s not my fault! I didn’t think we’d need that ugly map, we could just walk towards the tower thing. The hotel is supposed to be close!”

 

“Kon, you do know that the Eiffel Tower isn’t visible everywhere in France, right? That’s just in the movies. We are _so_ lost.”

 

“We are _not_ lost, we are just temporarily disoriented.” Tim interrupted them and started rummaging through his bags, ignoring Bart’s snicker. “And unless any of you guys have a better idea -and I don’t trust your ideas anymore today- I’m going to ask for directions.”

 

Now both Kon and Bart snorted in unison.

 

“Tim, dude, exactly _how_ are you going to ask?” Kon shook his head and dropped his only bag next to the bus stop sign. “You’ve seen what happened when we tried asking before getting on the bus. It’s all _oh-là-làs_ over here.”

 

“Kon is right, Tim. We can just keep walking-”

 

“I’ve been awake for 26 hours, Bart, I’m not going to keep walking.” Tim’s fingers finally closed over the book he had been looking for, and he lifted it with a small yell of triumph. “And I got this!”

 

Both Kon and Bart squinted at the cover.

 

“‘French for travelling’?”

 

“Yup!” Tim was too proud to have remembered to bring the book that he didn’t even register the other boy’s twin looks of disbelief. “The first person who walks by, I’m going to ask them for the street to the hotel, so please don’t do anything stupid.”

 

Bart was clearly interested -either to get to the hotel soon or to laugh at Tim’s attempts at French-, while Kon seemed like he was going to protest. When a chilly breeze passed he decided against it, instead sticking his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

 

“Alright, but hurry up.”

 

Tim glanced at the street behind him. While the street was more busy that Gotham’s at that time, there were still just a couple of people near him. One was an old lady walking her dog, and the other…

 

Tall, dark and- hey, the lady was probably hard of hearing anyways. Grabbing his book and all his courage, Tim walked up to him.

 

“Um, hi, sorry.”

 

Tim looked up at the other boy shyly when he got his attention. He looked almost younger than Tim himself, and Tim was sure that the glare he gave him shouldn’t be making him hot under his collar. But those eyes were really blue.

 

After glancing down his book, Tim cleared his throat and started talking again.

 

“ _Excusez-moi, où-_ ” He had to try ‘ _où_ ’ three times until it came out acceptable “ _-est l’hôtel Régence-_ ”

 

The taller -was he younger than Tim?- boy snorted and pointed in the direction he was walking to.

 

“ _Touristes? Quelle honte._ ”

 

Tim looked at him again, confused, but when he saw what he was pointing to he felt his face heat up again. For different reasons this time. There was a big sign on top of a door saying “Hotel Regence” in front of him.

 

“Ah! Um, sorry about bothering you then!” Leave it to Tim to make a fool out of himself in front of the hottest guy he had ever spoken to. “ _Je suis désolé!_ ”

 

He wasn’t even thinking about his pronunciation anymore, and the boy’s superior smirk, as attractive as it was, wasn’t making him feel any better.

 

“ _Il ne se passe._ ” At Tim’s slightly confused look, his smile got even wider. “ _Vous ne pouvez pas parler français?_ ”

 

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand…” Tim looked back at his friends and gestured for them to come over, a bit desperate. “ _Verstehe nicht…_ I mean, _je ne comprends pas?_ ”

 

He so wished he had taken French instead of German on high school. How could it be that hard?

 

Tim was still fidgeting by the time the others arrived carrying the bags, and he immediately pointed them in the direction of the hotel. To his surprise, the other boy hadn’t moved, and they stood together for a minute, watching Bart punch Kon in the shoulder and then race him to the entrance.

 

“ _Je m’appelle Damian._ ”

 

Tim jumped slightly when the other boy -Damian, now- spoke again, but managed to compose himself and check the book for a moment before he turned around, a small smile on his face.

 

 _“Je m’appelle Tim._ ” He needed to practice _je_ ; or just like, the _j_ sound, all the way. “Nice to-”

 

And suddenly Damian had grabbed him by the shoulders and he was getting closer ohmygodishe-

 

Damian put his cheek against his, and Tim decided it was the most disconcerting moment of his life when Damian repeated the movement.

 

Maybe his lips had actually brushed Tim’s skin, but maybe it had been the wind.

 

Tim was completely red in any case.

 

“ _Vous êtes mignon._ ”

 

“What?”

 

“ _Quoi?_ ”

 

“Oh, I-”

 

It wasn’t fair that he was alone in the street with Damian now. Speaking French was hard enough without being distracted by that jaw and those shoulders and that tongue licking those lips and how was that even legal? Looking away -and after a couple of minutes fumbling with the book again- Tim spoke again.

 

“ _Je… dois aller. Dormir._ ”

 

Had he said that right? Stupid French grammar, stupid French pronunciation, stupid French hot boys. Damian wasn’t saying anything, had Tim just said something awful? Running a hand through his hair, Tim grabbed his stuff with the other and risked another glance to Damian.

 

“ _Bonjour. I mean, bonsoir._ ”

 

Damian gave him another small smile and replied “ _bonsoir_ ”, but to Tim’s surprise, when he started walking towards the hotel Damian followed him.

 

“Uh, do you want to come to my room or-” Tim muttered, thankful that the other boy didn’t speak English. “Not that I’d mind, but I’d like to know why are we walking together.”

 

Damian let out a low chuckle; Tim hoped it was because Damian found English funny, or maybe it was from seeing the ridiculous tourist talk alone. The hotel was really close, Bart and Kon already out of sight, and even though they had the whole street to themselves Damian was walking really close to Tim. He even held the door open for Tim when they reached the building.

 

Obviously it was the country custom, so could Tim’s heart calm down, please?

 

“Hey, Tim, took your time! We got separate rooms!” Kon said, tossing a key to Tim, who almost didn’t catch it. He and Bart were sprawled on a sofa near the door, under the furibund glare of the manager, and Tim started walking up to them, too tired to say anything about it.

 

“What’s your French boyfriend doing here?” Bart asked, and Tim’s mind went blank for a second.

 

“He just was- he’s not my boyfriend!”

 

“Your boyfriend is staying at this hotel?”

 

Tim turned around swiftly and saw Damian talking with the manager in the reception. Soon enough, the manager was giving him another key, and Damian waved at him and left for the elevator before Tim managed to react.

 

“Damian is staying at this hotel?” he finally whined.

 

“So his name is Damian, huh?” Bart was smiling, his head suddenly next to Tim’s, and he could hear Kon’s snickering from the sofa. “This is gonna to be interesting.”


	2. Baise-moi

His back against the door, Tim gave up trying to fit the card into the machine. Damian’s lips against his neck were a perfectly good distraction, and even if Tim himself couldn’t do much in his current position -the French book in one hand, the card against the other- he was more than happy to let his hands wander.

 

“ _Donnez-moi la clé._ ”

 

Damian’s breath brushed Tim’s neck in the same spot he had been kissing, and the contact of the air on wet skin made Tim shiver. Even without having any idea of what he was saying, Tim didn’t think he’d be able to say no. He dared anybody to get in his position and try it.

 

Except for the fact that he had no intention to sharing his position with anybody. Damian had a wonderful mouth after all. Wonderful enough for Tim to seriously consider give up getting inside a room before yanking off Damian’s clothes.

 

Fortunately, Damian managed to unlock the door somehow, even before Tim had caught his breath. They had been kissing all the way to the room -was it Damian’s? The area didn’t seem familiar, it probably was- and Tim’s thoughts had gotten scattered in the way there. One of Damian’s hands settled at the end of Tim’s back, and the younger man smiled against his neck.

 

“ _Entrer, s’il vous plaît._ ”

 

“Oui, of course.” Tim’s breathless reply got a soft snort in response, and he was pushed slightly towards the inside of the room.

 

It was, as he thought, Damian’s room, or at least some very fancy room he had sneaked in. Definitely not the small one he had almost had to share with Kon or Bart. This was the kind of room hotels show in the ads -and bigger than three of the other one’s together. Though Tim wasn’t too interested in the flat screen or any of the other amenities besides the big and welcoming bed waiting for them. The way Damian closed the door and -again- pushed Tim against it probably meant that he shared Tim’s opinion.

 

In one fluid movement he took off his own shirt, and for a moment Tim’s fingers itched with the need to touch -until he remembered he was allowed to.

 

It wasn’t like anything he had done before. Tim had messed around with some people before, but the feeling of Damian’s skin under his hands, of Damian’s hands over his hips, slipping his fingers under the waist of Tim’s jeans while he tried to kiss him senseless… Tim couldn’t even compare it. Without even thinking about it, Tim let Damian take off his shirt -he didn’t even know how had he managed to keep the book on his hand- and move his kisses down to Tim’s collarbone. The hickeys were going to be difficult to explain. How were hickeys called in French anyways? _Suçons_? How did you even pronounce that?

 

“ _Suçon_ ,” Damian murmured, his fingers currently engaged with taking off Tim’s pants. He had been talking out loud. Godammit. “ _Monter sur le lit?_ ”

 

“ _Je ne comprend pas_.” Tim felt tempted to glare at the other boy. At that point of their relationship, it should be clear that Tim only knew a handful of basic expressions in French. Damian’s superior smirk made clear that he knew it. One day he’d understand why Damian kept talking to him in French, because he didn’t seem specially chatty, either.

 

And once again Tim found himself wishing again that that smirk didn’t make his brain turn to mush. No success, yet.

 

Damian’s only reply was to turn around to go sit on the -immense, glorious- bed and finish undressing himself. Sights in France were as good as he had been told, clearly. The erection that Damian’s black underwear did nothing to hide made Tim’s knees go weak, and his mouth go dry.

 

“ _Qu’est-ce que tu attends?_ ”

 

Even if the words were still unintelligible for Tim, Damian’s “come hither” look didn’t leave much room for imagination.

 

At some moment during the previous kissing session Tim’s belt and pants had gotten undone, and it wouldn’t take him long to drop them on the floor and join Damian. Maybe it was the book he was still holding, maybe it was something else, but as soon as Tim found himself standing between the other’s legs, he felt too shy to do neither.

 

Damian had probably noticed his hesitation, because his smile lost some of its sharpness as he leaned in to press a kiss right under Tim’s bellybutton. Tim inhaled sharply in response, and his knees went weak as Damian’s trail of kisses went lower, until they reached the edge of his plain, too old for Tim’s liking boxers. A slight tug on Tim’s pants and they fell to the floor, and both Damian’s hands and his mouth stilled on the edge where Tim’s trail of hair started becoming visible. He kissed it softly, lips half on Tim’s skin half on the last piece of clothing he was wearing, and glancing up at Tim, he waited for the other boy’s tremulous nod to take it off. Tim was hard -has been for the last half hour or so, practically ever since Damian’s hands had started to wander.

 

The short, hard lick to the head of Tim’s cock caught him off guard, even though his eyes had never left Damian’s form, and when he started sucking Tim couldn’t do anything but to throw his head back and let out a soft moan. As much as he had imagined it, the real thing still managed to surpass his expectations. Or maybe if was just Damian, holding his hips close and taking his time.

 

In any case, Tim knew he wouldn’t last long if this kept up. With a shiver, he pushed Damian away, and when he looked up Tim couldn’t help but to notice his lips, shining with spit and Tim’s precome, and felt dizzy. Enough that he almost forgot why did he want to stop Damian from sucking his brains out. The younger boy was definitely good at it. Tim wondered if he did it often, but he found himself not caring even half of what he probably should. He only knew that he wanted Damian, he wanted him immediately, in every way possible.

 

“ _Baise-moi_.” Tim could barely believe the words had left his mouth even before they were resonating on the bedroom. Given Damian’s expression, he couldn’t either, until a smirk lightened his features again and he tugged on Tim’s hands, making him fall on the bed over him and turning around to pin him down. It was just Tim’s luck, that of all the words in French he had read on the book, “fuck me” would be the expression he would remember.

 

Not that he was complaining.

 

The sheets were soft against his back -silk, Tim’s mind barely registered- and Damian’s mouth and hands were warm across his face, his chest, anywhere and everywhere at once. Damian had lube on the bedside table -of course he did- and condoms. Which was excellent since Tim had been checking the book while Damian was distracted and he had realized he wasn’t able to pronounce neither. Damian clearly had some experience. “Some” might be an understatement, in fact. But it was more than enough, and accompanied with all the encouragement Tim could give between gasps and moans, soon he had him sprawled on the bed, being slowly stretched by Damian’s long fingers. Tim was pretty sure Damian was giving him a hickey on his hip, too, but at that moment he couldn’t care less. He only wanted Damian to keep moving inside of him, to go deeper, to-

 

“Faster! Ah-”

 

Of course, Damian didn’t understand. Couldn’t understand. He was driving Tim crazy and he knew it, Tim could feel him smirk against his skin, but that was it. Tim guessed this was the reason why communication was important. Because the spot Damian hit two thrusts ago was perfect and Tim had no way to tell him.

 

It was good he had managed to carry the French book all the way with him to the bed. In fact, he was clutching at it, trying not to lose it before Damian even got a condom on. Hurriedly, Tim flipped through the pages, getting to the “nightlife” section -when he bought the book, he hadn’t even been aware that section existed. Never in his life would he have thought he would actually use it.

 

 _“Jeû… ne…_ ”

 

Suddenly, Damian’s fingers hit that spot again and Tim was unable to finish the word, his hands going weak and losing the page he was looking at. The book slipped away from his fingers as his toes curled and his back arched, Damian hitting Tim’s prostate again hard enough to almost make him miss something flying across the room out of the window.

 

Oh. Goodbye, book.

 

When Damian pushed in a third finger, however, Tim couldn’t bring himself to care.

 

*************

 

“That wasn’t nice, Damian.”

 

It would be easier to feel mad if Tim’s brain and his whole body didn’t feel like a very soft pillow, or if he wasn’t using Damian’s chest as a harder, though still incredibly comfortable pillow. Damian looked completely relaxed too, lying on his back with a hand holding Tim’s waist in a slightly possessive gesture, and a small smirk was his only reaction to Tim’s accusation.

 

“You didn’t need to throw away the book, you know,” Tim continued, patting Damian’s chest softly. “I mean, it wasn’t too expensive, but I needed it to communicate, and-”

 

“I heard you loud enough.”

 

It took Tim a whole minute to react to Damian’s words, but when he did… he still wasn’t as angry as he thought he would have been in normal conditions. He was still angrier than before, though. He even lifted his head to glare at Damian, despite of how comfortable he was.

 

“You speak English?! You don’t even have a French accent!” Tim used his arms to balance himself, accidentally elbowing Damian’s ribs. Damian’s eyebrow twitched. Tim thought he deserved that.

 

“As a matter of fact, I did not intend to say that in English.”

 

“That doesn’t make it any better,” Tim huffed, his pride hurt. “Why did you do it? To laugh at me?”

 

“I was just trying to avoid tourists,” Damian grumbled. “And you looked really… appealing with your struggling French, and I guessed you would lose interest in me if you knew.”

 

“You are interesting even if you are not really French.” With a soft sigh, he let his head fall on Damian’s chest. “You should tell me how did you end in France.”

 

“I can do that.”

 

“The sex was good, though.”

 

“I know.”

 

Tim could feel the smug smirk without even looking.

 

“You owe me breakfast.”

 

“Very well.”

 

His arm was still on Tim’s waist. Tim decided it could stay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all uwu this was my first time writing anything explicit! Tbh I had more ideas for this AU so that's why it says 2/?, who knows I might continue it sometime. Hope you enjoyed!


	3. Les livres

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said I might continue it and I did, see! I've been super busy with finals and graduation these last months so I haven't been able to write as much as I wanted, but hopefully I can get back to it now!
> 
> And of course my first fic after graduation had to be smutty. Of course.

To be honest, an hotel in a foreign city wasn't the worst place to do a walk of shame. Nobody knew you, nobody knew where you had been and nobody would care about where you were going. Of course, it was still stressful. Tim had never done anything of the sort, never gone to someone's bed to return hurriedly to his own, the possible shame muted by Paris' early morning and their previous, rather extrenuous activities. He could have stayed just as well; in fact, Damian had asked him to, lying next to him on the matress like something out of a dream.  
  
But Tim had pressed a last kiss against his neck and left the moment Damian closed his eyes. Even if during the afterglow Damian wanted him to stay, that didn't mean he wanted anything else at all. And Tim had friends who would be worried enough, anyways.  
  
That was basically the reason why he was standing in front of his own door, with the same clothes he had worn the day before -though rumpled beyond recognition- and sleep still in his eyes.  
  
He had expected the walk of shame would end the moment he came inside, too.  
  
He was wrong.  
  
Twin cries of "CONGRATULATIONS ON GETTING LAID" resounded inside the room  
  
"What are you- How did you even get my room key? We're going to get kicked out!" Tim yelled right before getting showered with confetti.  
  
"Don't try to switch topics!" Kon rolled his eyes and jumping from the bed, he walked up to Tim with a mischievous smile. "You spent the night in the supermodel's bedroom, you can't escape questioning now."  
  
"Are French boys any good at fencing, Timmy?" Bart teased him, sneaking behind his back to poke him in the ribs.  
  
"Enough!" Tim yelled again. He could feel his face burning -hell, he was sure Bart and Kon could feel his face burning as well. "That's none of your business! I just came back to get changed and get breakfast."  
  
"You're not going to escape questioning just like that," Kon insisted, his smile not weakening for a moment.  
  
"I so can," Tim huffed, and made a run for the bathroom. Bart might be the faster of the group, but Tim had the element of surprise on his side, and an extra dose of desperation. Thankfully his suitcase was still there were he left it.  
  
He wondered if he could get to the restaurant floor climbing the outside of the building.  
  
-  
  
As things turned out, he couldn't. Fortunately, Damian had kept him long enough in bed -and just the thought turned Tim on again- for breakfast time to be almost over. That meant teasing would have to wait, or their stomachs would have to wait until lunch.  
  
Full out teasing, that is. Because of course, Damian was sitting there in an expensive-looking shirt, reading Le Monde and eating sweets like he didn't have anything more urgent to do in the world. Which meant elbowing and snickering between Kon and Bart, and... an unexpected uncertainty for Tim. Because Damian hadn't even spared a glance in his direction, to the point that to anybody with less trust on Tim than his friends it would look like he made the whole story up. Tim could have passed the night sleeping on a staircase for all the attention Damian was paying him.  
  
Eventually, the teasing subsided, since they were all polite enough -and intimidated by the waiters- not to do much noise in public. The food was a wonderful distraction, too, and in the following silence Tim had time to think.  
  
He didn't have much experience with relationships like this. Or any at all. Going to spend the night with people he didn't know, just to not share a word ever again? Not that it hadn't been a good night. It had been one of the, if not the best, of Tim's life.  
  
And now he couldn't even make eye contact with Damian. It was enough to make him lose his appetite. Excusing himself, he left the table and walked back towards his bedroom with practically nothing but coffee to fill his stomach. A shower would do him good, and Kon and Bart would definitely enjoy sharing his croissants.  
  
He never arrived to the room, though. The moment he hit the button of the elevator for his floor, somebody slipped between the doors. It took Tim a second to realize it was Damian, and that second was enough for the other boy to shove his tongue down Tim's throat.  
  
The kiss didn't last long, but it was enough for Damian to hit the stop button, and for Tim's brain to turn back into mush. It was ridiculous, but it felt that in the hour -or less- they had been apart, Tim had managed to forget just how intoxicating Damian's kisses could be. There was the taste of coffee and sweets, and some mint that made Tim wonder if Damian had brushed his teeth beforehand. Maybe he had even brushed them for Tim specifically.  
  
"Damian! What do you think you're doing?" Tim yelled as soon as the kiss broke. It would feel more convincing if his knees hadn't suddenly became a wobbly mess, and if he wasn't leaning into Damian even as he said it, but Tim would take what he could. "I mean, you didn't even say hello!"  
  
"I didn't- And announce how we spent last night to everybody in the restaurant?" Damian stepped back and crossed his arms,  
  
"Do you know everybody in the restaurant? Because I only know Kon and Bart, and they already know. We started making out in front of them last night."  
  
"Well, no, but everybody in the restaurant knows me," Damian grumbled, apparently taken aback. "Did we really made out in front of them?"  
  
Tim was slightly taken aback.  
  
"Were you that drunk to not remember?"  
  
"No, but you were being really distracting. I remember kissing you, just not where."  
  
"If you say 'everybody knows you' one would think you'd be slightly more careful about who do you kiss, and where."  
  
"I kissed you, are you complaining?"  
  
"...are you blushing?"  
  
"I-" Damian's scowl was endearing, to say at least. "Shut up. I got you another book."  
  
"Did you?" Tim asked just as the elevator started moving again.  
  
With a blush that the dim lightning from the elevator couldn't hide, Damian shoved a bag with a bookstore's name on it towards Tim. Tim took it, and found a book similar to the one that would now surely be in some garbage truck being taken God-knows-where.  
  
"This is for French speakers who want to travel abroad and not the other way around," Tim recriminated Damian without much bite to his words. "Where did you even find it, anyways?"  
  
"I know the stores in the area, it wasn't that hard."  
  
"So you were thinking about me, weren't you?"  
  
Tim smiled more openly at Damian, but didn't get to hear his reply. The elevator's doors opened, and looking slightly guily, they had to step out to let an old lady with a menacing cane to use it. When, once again, they were alone in the corridor, Damian started walking. And of course, Tim followed.  
  
"Why wouldn't I think of you after last night?" was the first time Damian said, retaking the conversation a minute later as if nothing had happened.  
  
"Well, I have been told it's not unusual to forget someone after a night with them." Tim moved closer until his arm was touching Damian's. "Not that I mind, of course."  
  
"If anything, it should be you forgetting me." For the first time, Tim could notice the French accent under Damian's usually perfect pronunciation. "I doubt you came all the way to Paris for this."  
  
"I came for sightseeing, and I'm sure I have already seen some of the best sights Paris has to offer," Tim answered without missing a beat.  
  
If he had to be honest, Damian had lost part of his mistery and charm the moment Tim started to understand what he was saying. However, he was also more endearing like this, so he wasn't complaining. And if there was something clear was that speaking French would rob him of all the ocassions to make Damian blush and stutter like that. No matter how useful or detailed his conversation books were.  
  
"You aren't even planning to visit the Louvre?"  
  
"Oh, we will. But we have a whole month."  
  
"And you want to spend half of it in my bed?"  
  
"You don't want me to?"  
  
"I didn't say that."  
  
"Good."  
  
Stopping in front of Damian, Tim fisted his button down and pulled him down the couple of inches Damian had over him until his lips met. It didn't take long until they were both again flushed and panting, with Damian's back pressed against the wall and both pairs of hands dangerously close to the other one's belts.  
  
Damian's expensive shirt looked way better all crumpled and starting to stick to his chest with sweat, hands down, and his leg was great to rub against. Damian's thoughts seemed to be going the same way, from the way his lips drifted from Tim's lip down to his chest and groin and back up again.  
  
"So, isn't your room around this corner?"  
  
"This is the wrong floor."  
  
"Oh." Tim let his hands drift down until they settled comfortably on Damian's belt, close enough to be able to feel his bulge. "Well, the elevator isn't that far."  
  
The hunger on Damian's eyes was enough to make Tim's mouth go dry. If he had to be honest, the only reason Tim wasn't dragging him directly to the correct floor was the one leg that, despite being comfortable, was actually immobilizing him too much.  
  
"Not a lot of people come around this floor at this time of the day. The cleaners already went through all the rooms. So I'm going to make you a different proposition."  
  
Damian's smile was just this side of crazy and all the right amounts of handsome to make Tim need an extra couple of seconds to understand what he was suggesting. Just the time Damian needed to pull his hips closer to his with enough force to make Tim let out a strangled moan.  
  
"You cannot be seriously suggesting..."  
  
"I am, and I'm totally going to do it if you have no objection."  
  
Tim knew he, indeed, had many objections about it. However, they all seemed to fly away in a moan the moment Damian opened his pants and got his hands on something more sustantial than fabric and squeezed.  
  
"It's not like I can ruin your reputation. People here expect all sort of heinous things from foreigners," Damian mumbled against Tim's ear, pressing short kisses all over his jaw while Tim tried to decide whether opening Damian's belt or fuck his fist. "Specially from pretty ones."  
  
The second option won.  
  
Maybe Tim would feel ashamed later about coming in under a minute, but with Damian pressed up against him, seemingly unaware of the white stains dripping down the front of his pants, he found hard to worry about it. They stood like that for a moment, Damian still working on a new hickey on Tim's neck while Tim tried to catch his breath.  
  
The first thing that Tim noticed after coming back to his senses was the way Damian's erection kept digging insistently on his hip.  
  
"Maybe we should move this somewhere else now."  
  
"If you insist," Damian replied, smiling and pressing a last kiss against Tim's lips. "I think I still have condoms left somewhere in my room, and I'm sure your friends will forgive me if I steal you away for another couple of hours."  
  
"They're going to be busy with the buffet, so don't worry. At this rate, I'll never get to the Louvre, though."  
  
"I will take you there at night, if you want to. My father knows the director."  
  
"Does he?" Tim asked incredulously as Damian nuzzled his hair. "Wait, I don't even want to know. You're obviously spoiled rotten."  
  
"Aren't you spoiling me, too?"  
  
"Maybe," Tim hummed, closing his eyes and baring his neck again to Damian's lips.  
  
Then he opened them again the moment the elevator's doors opened in front of them.  
  
"Wait, where's the book?"


End file.
